Pedestal
by TiredRaven
Summary: Peter has been through everything with James, and he loves him more than he could ever possibly put into words. And yet... Slashy themes, Peterfic


I just can't leave this fandom, can I? -sigh- Harry and the Gang will always be my very first loves; I return to them over and over and over again. Even the characters I don't particularly like... how does that happen again?

This story is not canon. On the canon timeline, it's very canon. This is one of the years the Potter's could have died, but their deaths… didn't go down like this in JK's mind. So obviously, I don't own it.

… But I do like Peter more in this fic, and it's been ages since I've wrote him (none of it has ever been particularly good or it would've ended up on here...), and it's just delicious and fun.

The themes are slashy, for most of it the Peter is sympathetic, and the ending is - well, I don't know if I'm completely happy with it. I love reviews - have a nice time in Marauder-Land.

---

Peter had been there for everything with James Potter, but he had no idea how to handle this. He hadn't the vaguest, foggiest idea.

To be perfectly honest, Peter had been there through everything with _all _the Marauders. This did not make him know what to do right now. It was almost as though while he was standing there, staring blankly at James, he had forgotten everything he had ever known about him.

He didn't know what to do.

"Jamie?" he asked, walking up behind his friend slowly, tentatively, almost like James would break if he came too fast. It was weird, because James wasn't fragile, and Peter didn't tiptoe around James ever, and holy bloody Merlin he had no idea what to do next.

Shit, it had been hard to go through the last six and a half years with the Marauders, because he knew Sirius didn't particularly like him sometimes, and he knew Remus thought he was rather daft, and he knew Sirius was, and always would be, James's best friend. It was hard because he knew he wasn't quite what the rest of them were. Somehow, though, Peter always stuck it out and had yet to regret it. Somehow he always said or did the right thing, always made someone laugh or made someone happy and generally did not have these moments where he had no answer. He was always there to rant and rage at. He was always there to ask about Arithmancy, even when he was sick and tired and deprived of sleep and just wanted everyone to die. He woke up for them every time – he was even better with numbers than Remus was; something he was sure he had inherited from his muggle number-crunching father – and it was hard, but none of it was as hard as watching James at that moment knowing that he had no idea how to help.

Peter hated seeing Jamie sad; he had ever since first year. He hated seeing _anyone _sad, quite honestly, which is why even he was sometimes confused as to why he hung out with the Marauders. James and Sirius were, honestly, horribly mean. They made people sad all the time, and ever since he was young, he couldn't stand to see people sad. There were guys in his Mum's life that had forced him to learn to deal with anger and yelling and gut-wrenching disappointment, but that hopeless, melancholy look that came into people's eyes when they were truly miserable was unnerving and disturbing to the Gryffindor. Especially when that look entered James Potter's eyes.

He looked devastated, and it made Peter's fists screw together. He started involuntarily gnawing on his bottom lip. Peter did _not _know how to handle this.

There were a few odd moments of silence where Peter wasn't edging towards James and James wasn't making any effort to acknowledge the rat, but then there was a deep, ragged sigh, the sort that leaks out when you're trying very hard not to cry.

"Pete?"

He knew a lot of people didn't understand how the Gryffindor odd-child, Peter Pettigrew, hung out with the famed, popular, "beautiful" Marauders. The animagus was certain Sirius at least questioned it at times. The thing was, Peter was a solid softy. No one got in fights with Peter. Peter never got detention. Peter would always go get you food from the house elves, offer you advice, listen when you were lacking another ear, and generally be a pillar that James, Sirius, and Remus couldn't be for the group. He liked being that pillar, he liked being needed, and he liked seeing that hopeless look lighten up in his friends faces when he made their days better. He would hang out with them until the end of time to see that once a week.

Peter took a deep breath and went to sit on the bed next to James, staring awkwardly at the broken boy next to him. It wasn't right to see James like this, and he almost wanted to shake him and insist that he started being himself immediately.

He didn't know how to handle this.

Sometimes Peter wondered why he was the rock. That thought was especially prevalent at this specific moment in time, but, as always, the answer always came to him pretty quickly. Remus was bloody intelligent and generally excellent at listening, but not so good at comforting anyone but Sirius. Remus was a genius, and he completely did not understand people. It was a shame, but the sort of shame that Peter could live with. James was, frankly, too arrogant and self-absorbed to really do any sort of good when trying to comfort his friends, even if he did care about them and their problems immensely. And Sirius? Well. Sirius understood James very well, and he understood Remus very well, so perhaps he was the rock of the group. Or he would have been if Peter had not understood the very inner workings of _every _Marauder.

The youngest of the boys generally knew how to handle everyone's problems. When Remus was going through his pre-full-moon slump, Peter would bring him chocolate, try to ask him as few questions as possible, and sit with him quietly by the fire, actually doing his homework, for hours at a time. It had taken years for Peter to understand that was what Remus wanted, and it took several months for Remus to realize that Peter understood. It wasn't until 5th year that Remus and Peter had truly become good friends, despite what Peter had seen Remus go through in the previous four.

When Sirius was having a bad day, it didn't take much to set him off. Peter tried to tiptoe around him and dig up some of Sirius's favorite notes that he had stuffed in his trunk and put them near the top, by his clothes, where he would unwittingly find them. Sirius had yet to figure out it was Peter doing this. He was pretty sure Remus knew, but he wasn't certain of that, either. He didn't really mind. Sometimes Peter was afraid of Sirius, but he generally knew that the Black would do most anything for him, however reluctantly, and he didn't like for people to stay upset.

Peter didn't know how to handle this. It showed.

"It's alright, Wormtail," James said quietly, pulling his legs onto the bed and pulling his knees to his chin. Peter had never seen his best friend look more pathetic.

"No, Jamie," Peter reached out a hand and ran it over James's shoulder, "it's not."

He knew how to handle James in general, of course he did. James was the first one he figured out, because it was easy. The chaser was not hard to understand. What James wanted was someone to rant to, someone who wouldn't offer advice unless asked, someone who would smile and nod quietly, someone to bounce prank ideas off of, and someone to sneak down with him underneath the Invisibility Cloak to get food from the kitchens. Sometimes, James wanted more. Sometimes he wanted to hear affirmations that he was a good person, or an awkward pat on the back. He never asked for very much, though, and Peter appreciated that immensely. He understood it more than he understood Sirius or Remus.

He didn't know how to handle _this_.

James shrugged. "Yeah, but what are you going to do about it, Pete? Do you have some way to fix it?" Peter bit harder on his lip.

"No."

The thing was James had always been the stable one of the group. Sirius, of course, really struggled with his family. They didn't like him, he didn't like them, and, according to James, Sirius had never quite gotten over that he couldn't save Regulus from their parents. Remus was a werewolf with gay problems, Daddy problems, and huge, deep-set self-esteem issues no matter how often Sirius fawned over him. (Peter thought they were both bloody dense; Sirius obviously had a thing for the lycan, and neither of them would admit it). Frankly, Remus probably won the "most fucked up Marauder" award. Peter himself didn't have the best home life, though he wasn't really sure that any of the others knew that. If they didn't, it was his own fault anyway – somehow, he thought he would have gotten a bit more comfortable around Sirius over the years, but he never really had.

Being through everything with Sirius and Remus like he had meant something. But being through everything with James didn't mean all that much, except that James trusted him. "Everything" mostly included Lily shooting him down a few times a week, the mysterious death of his cousin last year ("there's something wrong, Pete. I know there is. Lucy couldn't have just… disappeared like that"), and, more recently, James dealing with the fact that he really didn't like Lily, no matter how hard he tried to make their already-straining relationship work.

James had never been through anything like this, and Peter had no idea how to make things better, how to make that smile appear on his face, how to lighten his eyes and receive a light slug on the shoulder with a quiet "Pete, you always get it."

He was not prepared to handle something like this and he was not prepared to be the only thing James was looking towards for guidance and he was not ready for crying or indifference or anger, and he never would be.

But he had to be. James couldn't look that sad forever, or Peter would never forgive himself.

_POTTER'S FOUND DEAD IN ENGLISH HOME_

The night before, Sirius and James had been called to Dumbledore's office and hadn't come back. At breakfast the next morning, Remus pointed to the article in The _Daily Prophet _with a shaking hand.

"Peter," he said quietly. Peter looked over, read the headline, and promptly took off for Dumbledore. Remus grabbed his bag and hurried off behind him. "I can't believe it!" he said, shaking his head and stuffing his things into his bag. "Oh, James! And poor Sirius, I don't think he'll truly know what to do without the Potter's. They've been his saving grace for the past year…"

Peter nodded his head and started up the stairs.

"Pete?" Remus asked.

"You take Sirius," Peter said, hardly even turning around to look at his friend. "You know him better than I do."

At the time, Peter hadn't thought through that statement. Of course, he would rather bumble through apologies and awkward sentiments about how good the Potters were with Jamie, because somehow he thought he might have a better idea of what to do with him. But now, standing in Dumbledore's office with a blank-faced James, Sirius and Remus having retreated to the Lake some time ago, he found he knew what he would have done with Sirius. He would have taken him up to the Dorm, dug through their trunks, and come up with the letter the Potter's sent him at the beginning of their 6th year. Peter had never read it, but no matter what was wrong with Sirius, if you put it near the top of his trunk, his mood would lighten significantly. He supposed it was the letter when Mr. Potter called him "son", and when Mrs. Potter assured him he could stay with them until the end of time. After that, he would have retrieved the picture he had of the Potter's from his bag and put it on Sirius's bedside table and waited for him to say something.

Maybe Sirius didn't like him all the time, and maybe Peter was sometimes afraid of him, but Merlin's beard, he forgot that he knew how to cheer Sirius up.

Peter had taken James's arm and guided him back to the common room and up to the dorm, not sure what to say. It had led him to this moment when Sirius and Remus were gone and he and James were sitting here and Merlin, he had no idea what to do. For once, Peter didn't know how to go about comforting his best friend. When Lily turned him down, you got him some food from the house elves, let him vent, and told him she'd give in eventually. When his cousin disappeared, (and James was right after all, something was wrong. Now _The Daily Prophet_ thought she was one of the first victims of rising psychopath Voldemort), all Peter had to do to calm him down was to swear on his grave he'd never join the other side and that he'd stand by James's side forever, "no matter _what_, Pettigrew, do you hear me?".

He didn't have to promise James to know he'd do that.

Peter Pettigrew, no matter how often he tried to convince himself he didn't, loved James Potter. Loved him like he didn't know he could, loved him so much he hardly even saw anyone else, loved him so completely he didn't even mind that he was with Lily as long as it made him happy. He blindly adored James. It was the biggest curse of his life, and as far as he could tell, there was no cure. It didn't matter what James did to him, he couldn't stop loving the big oaf. It was horribly Hufflepuff of him, or at least horribly un-Gryffindor, but many things about Peter were, and he couldn't bother to be buggered anymore.

Somehow, he thought announcing his undying love for the Chaser was not the answer to this predicament.

"You… don't have to stay," James said, brown eyes staring blankly at the wall. Peter, though he was uncertain about what he was going to do, was indignant at this suggestion.

"Thick and thin, mate," Peter mumbled, finally reaching out and smoothing the boy's unruly hair. "There's nothing thinner than this." James made a choking sound, head in his hands, and tried to pull his legs even closer, like he could disappear if he maneuvered himself into a small enough ball.

"Fuck, Peter," James sputtered, and then there wasn't a sound except harsh breathing and crying. Peter wasn't sure when he stopped listening to the reasoning pouring through his brain (_too close, it's James, he doesn't like it when you try and hug him, stay away, bad idea, talk him out of it, go get him food, prat, that will never work,_) and listened to his instincts, but the next thing he knew he had the boy wrapped in a huge hug, slowly rubbing James's back and lying down with him.

"You're going to be ok, Jamie. You know? You're going to be ok. I know it doesn't seem like it now, but your parents will make sure you're ok. Now they can always look out for you. It's going to be ok, Jamie. Please, James." Peter was crying, but it almost didn't seem like it lying next to James, who was draining his body of all liquid. James kept in his fetal position, with empty sobs wracking through his body. It was a slow but sure process that saw the harsh cries fade out into smaller, constant tears, ("it doesn't end everything, you know. It can't. Life is too big for it to end in one moment. They're still here, James, you just have to figure out where. And… and you… fuck, Jamie, I promise it'll be ok"), and an even longer process to see James stretched out to his full height, clinging to Peter.

"Pete?"

"Yeah, Jamie?" Peter asked, tightening his grip on the Gryffindor.

"What happens now? I'm not legal." Peter looked down at the boy curled up around him.

"I don't know," he said. "When my mum died, my dad was still alive." A shudder shot down James's spine.

"Did you mean it when you said death didn't end everything?" James asked. His face was red and puffy from crying so hard, and his throat was dry and voice croaky.

"I did. My mum's still here. I feel her whenever something really important happens. It's how I knew I was going to be friends with you guys. I felt her there when you introduced yourself to me. Your parents are still around, especially right now. Sometimes souls wander away before they make their way up to heaven. They're here right now, you just can't feel them because you're not used to it yet. But one day you'll be used to it, and you'll know the difference," Peter said, planting a kiss on James's head. "It gets easier. Just not right away. It takes years sometimes for it to be easy, I think, and I don't know that you ever get over it. But it does, at least, get better."

James positioned his head so it was right underneath Peter's chin and nodded. "I hope you're right." There was a long pause where Peter stroked James's hair and James breathed in and out. Peter was overwhelmed by how quickly he had quieted down, and by the fact that there weren't any remnants of tears on his cheeks. Finally, James spoke up.

"It was the same guy who killed Lucy. I can feel it. Pete, I'm going to fucking kill him." Peter stiffened, but ran his hands through James's hair.

"I'll be there with you," he said, voice near a whisper.

"Is that a promise, Pettigrew? I need that to be a fucking promise."

"I promise," Peter said, "that I'll be there the whole way."

---

Years later, when the second war was heating up, Peter found himself facing an angry Remus Lupin, clutching his wand and pointing it at his former friend joyously. Still, his voice was touched with sorrow and anger when he spoke. "James wouldn't believe it was you," Remus spat. "I told him." Peter clenched his eyes closed, looking at the black lids and taking a deep, long breath. He tried to regulate his breathing, but it didn't seem to work very well. This subject was one he was hoping would never come up in his life. It hadn't so far.

"I-I'm s-so-sorry," Peter stuttered, wand in hand.

"What in the world did you do to make him believe in you so much?" the lycan asked, keeping his wand aimed directly at Peter. "He certainly didn't believe in me like that, and I can't for the life of me figure out what you did differently." Peter swallowed, throat just as dry as it had been around James all those years ago.

"I p-promised I would ne-never leave," he squeaked, his own wand faltering in his hand as Remus trembled with anger.

"And you're going to rot in your own private corner of hell for that."

Peter shook his head, looking at Harry – Harry who looked so much like James it was almost criminal – out of the corner of his eye. "I'm already there. I live with what I did to James every day." Remus, eyes still ablaze, looked at the rat with such a mixture of confusion and contempt that Peter bit his bottom lip, a sign of submission and fear so obvious that he hadn't done it since 7th year with James.

"And what about the rest of us?" Remus barked, eyes straining.

"After James was gone, there was no point in trying to go back to the Other Side, anyways," Peter choked out, feeling years of explanation and terror pouring out of his mouth. There was no real explanation, nothing that could even come close to telling why he turned to Him. He terrified Peter, and James hated Him, and yet when all was said and done, Peter Pettigrew, the quiet "Other Marauder" who had loved James Potter for years, had a Dark Mark and Marauder blood on his hands. "I was always scared of Sirius, and I'm not sure I ever believed you actually liked me," Peter mumbled, and he remembered all of a sudden the insecurities he felt in his youth. They never really went away, but they were certainly less prominent for a time, and Remus made them all come out. He nearly cowered against the older man's gaze.

"Why did you do it in the first place, you idiot?" Peter stiffened.

"You guys weren't talking to me after you saw me talking to Lucius Malfoy in Diagon Alley during Christmas Holiday, remember?" he asked through his teeth. Remus looked bewildered for a moment, but then nodded slowly. "We were talking because he wanted to know if my Mom's family's views on blood purity ran through me stronger than her own views. I told him to bugger off, but then James wouldn't believe me when I said that was what happened, and I was pissed off," the rat said, looking away from Remus. The justifications seemed bland to him when he said them aloud. "People do crazy thing when they're in love." By the time they graduated, Remus already knew about that little tidbit – but he still looked a little surprised.

"You're blaming this on love?" he asked furiously, hands forgetting the wand they were clasping to curl into a fist.

"No. But they needed me, and James didn't, and I've always been too weak to not be needed."

Remus growled and unleashed a curse at him, but Peter, if nothing else, had always been good at scurrying. He scurried away, looking back at Remus's rage and confusion, and the small pang of regret that he never quite stopped feeling pierced him once again.

---

As he reached out to Harry's neck upon Voldemort's insistence, Peter looked up. The rapidly aging man picked up this habit in the first war, when he could imagine himself talking to his mother when he needed strength. Years went by, and looking to the sky became Peter's way of illustrating talking to the dead. It was as though his thoughts poured straight from his head to the sky, and it calmed him. Today, though, his thoughts weren't meant to calm.

_James, _he thought, looking straight up into the stratosphere,_ I hope you never forgive me._ Even as his eyes widened and slivered with greed and lust and worry, the hands turned back on him.

_Don't worry your pretty little head about that - I never did._


End file.
